Hello, world! This blog began on September 28, 2007, and so far nobody has come looking for me with tar and feathers.
On my honor, I will do my best not to bore you. All comments are welcome as long as your discourse is civil and your language is not blue.

Happy reading, and come back often!

And whether my cup is half full or half empty, fill my cup, Lord.

Copyright 2007 - 2017 by Robert H.Brague

Monday, March 17, 2008

In my prime

The most wonderful day this week is not today, Monday, March 17th, St. Patrick's Day, even though faux Irishmen everywhere are spending the day wearing clothing of Kelly green and drinking beer of similar hue. The most wonderful day this week is not Friday, March 21st, the vernal equinox, even though it's one of only two days each year when Earth's poles are equidistant from the sun (on all the other days, thanks to the tilt of Earth's axis, one pole is closer to the sun than the other, which causes our planet to have seasons). One might argue that the most wonderful day this week is Sunday, March 23rd, the day on which Easter (the most wonderful day of this or any other year) occurs this year, except that Sunday is not part of this week, it's part of next week. No, the most wonderful day this week, in my humble opinion (and that phrase, whenever you encounter it, always means "in my not-so-humble opinion"), is tomorrow, March 18th. If you are wondering why, here's the reason:

It's my birthday.

But it's not just any birthday, it's my 67th birthday. Which brings me to prime numbers. Being 66 has been just grand, really it has, but I haven't been in my prime because 66 is a multiple of 11 (you know, 11, 22, 33, 44, 55, 66) and therefore not a prime number. Prime numbers are not multiples of anything; the only two integers they are the product of are themselves and 1. I would tell you more, but I'd prefer that you go to Drexel University's Math Forum site (http://www.mathforum.org) where you can click on "Ask Dr. Math" and then on "FAQ" and then on "Prime Numbers" because they're explained a lot better over there. Also, Drexel has the information copyrighted. While reading about prime numbers over there, you just might also learn about The Sieve of Eratosthenes.

Meanwhile, I am looking forward to being in my prime for a whole year. I won't have another such opportunity until 71 comes along (because 68 is 17 times 4, and 69 is 23 times 3, and 70 is 10 times 7, don't you know).

2 comments:

I love this post because I, too, have unusual reasons for loving some ages of mine, more than others. That reason, is called synesthesia. As a synesthite, I see numbers (as well as letters) in color. I'm currently in my 40's, which are a deep, rich, lovely green. But I'm not really looking forward to my 50's, which are a sunflower yellow, because I prefer cool colors to warm.

I like the idea of factoring in (pun not intended, but appreciated) prime vs composite when thinking of my age. So thanks for that! Now, I'm off to learn about the Sieve of Eratosthenes!

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About me

has lived on earth for 76 years and has been married for 54 of those years to Ellie, his wife. They have two sons, one daughter, the appropriate assortment of in-laws, and six absolutely magnificent grandchildren. He enjoys reading, playing the piano, driving in the country, sitting by the ocean, watching birds fly, gazing into a roaring fire, holding his wife's hand, and spending time with his grandchildren. He doesn't fancy doing yard work, walking a dog who definitely is not in the mood, or cleaning up after one who is (RIP Jethro, 2004-2013).

Me, circa 2010 (with Mrs. RWP)

A reader in Oregon has requested a current photograph. For the thick of skull, I want to say that I am not exceedingly tall nor is Mrs. RWP exceedingly short. She is sitting in a chair; I am standing behind her and slightly to her right, your left. I am nothing if not thorough. Handsome and thorough. Exceedingly intelligent, very handsome, and thorough. I forgot humble.

Me, circa 1943

A few months before this photograph was taken, I fell through a hole in a chain link fence in New York City and landed on my head on a school’s cement playground that was six feet below sidewalk level. I had a brain concussion. Some people think this helps explain why I am the way I am today. Other people insist nothing can explain why I am the way I am today.

Poem by a Yorkshire Lad

Song for Lost Youth

Perhaps I should have cradled it
Like a dove
Kept it safe with tender love
But I squandered it -
Gushing-blundering-raging
Like a wild mountain stream
Desperate for an ocean
That was but a distant dream.
...I just never thought
That I could have loitered in the shallows
Reflecting the blueness of the sky
- Concealing silver fishes
- Quietly biding my time
- Stretching it out.
And so, and so it's gone now
- My ephemeral youth
- That precious once only gift
- That honeyed sweetness,
Leaving only the trembling resonance
Of distant echoes
From half-remembered hills.